


Every Piece of Me and You

by madartiste



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: AUs, Canon Compliant, Dadgil Week (Devil May Cry), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Rated for Nero's Mouth, childhood bullying, mention of blood and injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-24 13:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21338983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madartiste/pseuds/madartiste
Summary: A series of unrelated short one-shots focused around Vergil's relationship with his son.  Written for Twitter's Dadgil week.
Relationships: Dante & Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry), Nero & Nico (Devil May Cry), Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Vergil & Credo
Comments: 78
Kudos: 307





	1. Smile

**Author's Note:**

> This series is something of a cleaning out of my drawer full of ideas that are never going to make it into a full story. They're short, but hopefully you'll enjoy some of them!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nero just wants his father to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This technically is in the same universe as my story Encore, but I don't think you'll need to read that to understand what's going on here. Only important things are that it's an AU where Vergil never fell at Temen-ni-gru, and he and Dante raise Nero at the Devil May Cry office. Vergil is 20, and Nero is about 1 ½-2.

"How can he be so irresponsible?" Vergil muttered. 

His brother was often driven by his whims, but Vergil had thought Dante at least understood that things needed to be different now that Nero lived with them, so why was he being so difficult? It wasn't like Vergil could just drop everything at a moment's notice to head out on a job, and yet he'd just learned from Morrison that Dante was turning down lucrative work just because he wasn't interested at the moment. It was frankly...

"Unfair," Vergil growled, setting the can of diced tomatoes down on the counter with a 'clack.' Dante apparently couldn't be bothered to earn the money they desperately needed to make sure Nero was well cared for, but Vergil, of course, was expected to handle everything in their home. Cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, budgeting, tending to Nero, repairing the ridiculous amount of broken or run-down parts of the office. It felt like his tasks were endless, but _Dante_ got to decide he didn't _feel like it_ when it came to his own work.

"So selfish," Vergil said and realized he'd completely forgotten to pull the sausages out of the refrigerator. Aggravated, he spun around only to pause when something tugged on his trouser leg.

He blinked. "Nero? What are you--? Ah!" The tiny child had a firm grip on the fabric and was making an admirable attempt to scale his father like a tree.

Vergil sighed, reaching down to pluck his young son up into his arms. "What is it you want, hmm? What do you--? Nero!" The protest came out closer to 'Newwo' because the boy suddenly crammed his fingers into the corners of Vergil's mouth, pushing up.

Tilting his head first one way and then the other, Vergil tried to dislodge the pudgy digits but found Nero was more determined than he expected. "What-- What are you doing? Nero, please stop. I can't-- Urk!"

The fingers slid into the corners of his mouth again, forcing Vergil's lips upward and stretching his cheeks, and Nero gave him a broad, exaggerated grin. "Smile!" his son declared.

Oh.

_Ooooh_.

Carefully, Vergil captured Nero's clever hands in one of his own so he could speak without obstruction. "Were you worried that I was upset?" he asked.

Nero nodded. "Grumpy demon!"

He sighed and decided he had plenty of reasons to scold Dante today, not the least being that Nero had picked up on the unflattering nickname. It was touching, though, that his son was so eager to cheer him up. Nero favored him with another beaming smile, one much more natural this time, and Vergil couldn't help but respond in kind. He chuckled and brushed his thumb over a round cheek.

"You don't need to worry about me, dear heart," he said. "As long as I have you, I'll never be unhappy for long."


	2. First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vergil doesn't like change all that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another 'deleted scene' from Encore. Only important background bits are that this is an AU where Vergil never fell into the Underworld, and he and Dante raise Nero. Nero is 5-6, and Dante and Vergil are 24-25.  
Quick warning for a short bullying incident just in case that might make someone uncomfortable.

Vergil was trying very hard to stay still, but it was something of a struggle. Under normal circumstances, he had no trouble being motionless and projecting an unflappable aura of calm. This, though, was not normal circumstances. Not by a long shot.

This was Nero's first day of school, and Vergil _hated_ it.

"Bro, you'd better chill, or you'll freak out the other parents," Dante whispered next to him. "You feel like you're gonna Trigger any second now."

"I _am_ chill," Vergil lied. But his brother was right. The other family members gathered in the back of the classroom were giving the twins a very wide berth. Even if humans didn't know exactly what it was that they were feeling, they still sensed strong demonic presences on some level.

And Nero rolling his eyes as he contemplated a seat at one of the low, round tables wasn't helping either.

"Mr. Redgrave, it's perfectly normal to feel anxious about your child starting school." The teacher, a short, young brunette with a friendly smile, addressed him directly. Vergil had already researched her credentials to be sure she could give adequate instruction, but her youth still made him apprehensive -- despite the fact she was a year older than he was. "I can go over the lesson plans again in more detail if that would help put you at ease?"

Dante favored her with a thousand-watt grin that had the intended result of making her slightly flustered. "I wouldn't mind that," he said, stepping closer to her. "It's been a while since I was in school, so it's kinda cool to see how much things have changed."

Her eyes darted away and back to his brother's face as color bloomed on her cheeks, and Vergil scowled. Ms. Cindy Wyatt was doing her level best to be professional, but there would need to be a discussion later between the twins -- probably accompanied by threats and maybe some judiciously applied maiming -- about _not flirting with your nephew's teacher_. Vergil could only imagine what a disaster Dante could make out of this situation if left to his own devices.

But it worked to distract her and gave Vergil a moment to breathe when he needed it most. Dante could be annoyingly perceptive at times.

He turned to watch Nero navigate the room for a moment before going back to observing the other children and noted, not for the first time, that many of them already knew each other. They were likely neighbors who had developed friendships at an early age based on proximity and relationships between their guardians, but Nero unfortunately didn't have that luxury with his home being in a seedier area of the city, right around the block from a strip club of all things. Vergil worried again that it might put him at a disadvantage. Granted, Nero was exceedingly clever, talented, and adorable, so perhaps he could overcome this obstacle with a bit of--

"Your hair is weird."

Vergil blinked, glancing around for the young voice rising above the rest of the childish chatter. His stomach dropped when he spotted Nero frozen with his hand on the back of an empty chair.

"I don't want you to sit here," another boy declared haughtily.

The tone set a match to Vergil's blood, rage boiling up from his center and crackling under his skin. _How dare that little worm say such a thing_! Some insignificant insect had the gall to reject the grandson of the Dark Knight who had saved their very species from being wiped out by--

"Whoa there, Verge." Dante grabbed his arm before he could do something foolish. "We should let the pro handle this."

Ms. Wyatt had already stepped into the situation, putting herself between the two children. "That wasn't nice, Colton. There's nothing wrong with the way Nero looks, and we don't treat people unkindly because of their appearance." The boy wilted under her censure, and Vergil felt a spike of satisfaction at the childish pout. 

"I like his hair!" piped up a stalwart girl sitting at another table. "I think it's pretty. Can he sit with us?"

Nero hesitated, glancing at his father and Dante and then back to the offered table.

"You may if you want, Nero, but you are welcome to sit wherever you'd like," Ms. Wyatt said kindly.

"I'll sit there," Nero declared, determination writing itself all over his face. He marched right over to take the empty seat, and Vergil felt a swell of pride. No presumptuous upstart was going to keep his son down.

Ms. Wyatt smiled at Nero bent down to speak when he settled himself. "We can talk about what happened when you're ready, okay?" she said quietly, and Nero nodded.

"See, you got all worked up over nothing," Dante said, patting his brother on the back. "She's got this covered."

Indeed, now that the children's short attention spans had shifted their collective focus, Ms. Wyatt had taken Colton aside and spoke softly but seriously with him. The boy's parents hovered nearby, and Vergil noticed the nervous glances they were throwing his way. Good. Let the adults fear him so they would keep their miserable spawn in line.

Dante's sigh was heavy and long. "I know you're not happy about this. We didn't have the money to send him to one of the fancy schools you liked the look of, but this place seems good, right?"

"That's not it." Though, it was a _little_ it. Wanting to give Nero the best of everything, like their parents had when they were alive, and discovering he just didn't have the means was disheartening in its own way, but Dante was correct that this school still had a more than respectable reputation thanks to the dedicated staff and administration. The truth of it was far harder to admit.

"You'll miss him," Dante said, and he had a sad smile on his face when Vergil whipped around to stare at him. "I will too. Having the little guy around every hour of the day was a lot of work sometimes, but… it’ll be tougher not to have him where we can see him whenever we want. He's our family."

Vergil deflated, shoulders sagging. He wasn't sure if Dante sharing his feelings should make him feel better but hearing them put out in the open at least made them seem less frivolous. "How can we protect him when he's so far away?" Vergil asked.

"The kid's growing up whether we like it or not," Dante mused. "Someday he's going to be leaving the nest and flying out on his own. We'll just have to make sure we've got him prepared for whatever he runs into." He pulled a face then. "I wonder if Mom and Dad ever thought about this stuff."

"I'm sure Mother did. Father… Who knows? Demons don’t develop the same way, so he might not have really considered it."

"This sucks."

Vergil tried to turn his snort of laughter into a cough. "Well put, little brother. Well put." 

Dante smiled softly at Nero who had his silver head bent over a piece of paper he was scrawling on with his new classmates. "Guess we just gotta have faith in the kid from here on out," he said wistfully.

That part wasn't as difficult. Neither one of them had to particularly _like_ the change in their comfortable norm, but it was a natural progression and meant that they had already done a good job of giving Nero the tools he needed to get this far. All they could do was continue to support their boy whenever he needed it.

"Yes," Vergil replied. "I suppose we do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a bit hesitant about this one since I'm not a teacher and never had proper training in resolving bullying incidents, but I tried to research this as best I could. Hopefully the teacher handles it in a way that people find appropriate. I had considered removing that part, but I felt like it was a nod to how different Nero's life was with having a supportive family from the get-go.


	3. Growing Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another 'deleted scene' from Encore. This one might need a bit more explanation, but I still don't think you'd need to have read the story to understand this one. 
> 
> Important information: Vergil doesn't fall at Temen-ni-gru, he and Dante raise Nero, this is set after DMC2 so Dante is stuck in the Underworld, and Nero is injured during a mission he undertakes with his father. Vergil is 36, Nero is 17-18.

This was exhausting, much more than Vergil was used to at this point in his life. There had been times when he would go weeks without significant rest while he was being hunted by Mundus' minions as a child, hiding in drain pipes or tucked into dusty basements he'd broken into, covered in unsavory substances to hide his scent. That was long ago, however, and this was… worse.

It had been three days since he had any real sleep because each time he shut his eyes all he could see was his son staggering toward him, bleeding out of countless wounds and delirious from the high of triumph, only to fall face first onto the rain slicked ground and not move again. It had been a kind of terror that was utterly foreign to Vergil, cleaving him apart in ways he hadn't recovered from.

And it was all his own fault. Nero had been severely injured rescuing him because Vergil was just as much a pretentious bastard as Dante always accused him of being. What sort of contemptible creature was he? Was his destructive hubris so deeply ingrained that it even ensnared his precious child into the consequences? Not only had Vergil needed to be saved from a mid-level demon after a moment of egotistical carelessness, but his son had nearly _died_. 

He sucked in a deep breath and pressed his face into his hands. Thinking about this was getting him nowhere. It seemed like every time he stopped long enough to let his thoughts drift, it always came back to the same thing. Better to keep busy until he was collected enough to properly absorb the guilt that clawed at him. He certainly had enough to occupy himself, with bills to pay, cleaning to do, missions to evaluate and negotiate--

"Daaaad…!"

Vergil froze. It wasn't so much Nero calling for him, though that alone would have sent him running, as it was the odd note inflecting his son's voice. Fear. Nero was _afraid,_ and Vergil took the stairs two at a time to reach his room.

The door was wide open, Nero clearly visible where he was sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked up at his father with bleak eyes and swallowed hard. "I-I think there's something wrong with me…"

As if his stomach wasn't already trying itself into an impressive knot, Nero's anguish sent a spike of burning cold straight down through Vergil's core. He could see the bandages that had swathed the boy's injured right arm were loosened, pooling around the guarded limb, and he distinctly remembered Nero's irritated refusal when he offered to assist in cleaning the wound earlier. Was the damage worse than they thought? Wasn't it healing properly? What if--

"Show me," Vergil said before his thoughts could carry him somewhere dark.

Nero turned toward him and stretched out the arm, his hand shaking slightly as he rotated it until the palm faced upward. Vergil's breath caught in his throat. "Oh," was all that escaped him.

"'Oh'? Are you serious?!" Nero cried, panic twisting his tone. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's… _wrong_," Vergil ventured slowly, and he saw the thunderous turn in Nero's expression.

"How the hell is nothing wrong?! Look at it!" The clawed fingers spread out in a show of frustrated anxiety.

Vergil was indeed looking at it, of course, and he knew exactly what he was seeing. But rather than instilling the same alarm that Nero was feeling, Vergil was _ecstatic_. Monumental, bone deep, wholehearted relief nearly knocked his legs out from under him, so he sat down facing his son and took the demonic arm into his hands. This was everything he could have wanted, if not the particular circumstances he had hoped for.

_A Devil Trigger, _Vergil thought joyously.

Nero had a Devil Trigger after all, despite his diluted bloodline, and it was starting to manifest even though it clearly wasn't finished maturing. The thick, protective hide didn't entirely cover Nero's luminous core and left vulnerable gaps around the wrist, back of the hand, palm, and along the top of his forearm. Even further, the areas that seemed the most developed were a dark blue while the red was more mottled and likely to shift in hue over time.

Anticipation started to swell in his chest. Nero's completed devil form was going to be absolutely marvelous. He could scarcely wait!

"Dad…" Nero implored, and Vergil realized he'd been contemplating the arm in silence for too long.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Vergil told him. "This is natural."

"_Natural_?"

"For you, yes."

Nero settled a bit, though he was still dubious. "So, this isn't a parasite or an infection or something?"

Ah. So that's what was worrying him. Understandable, Vergil supposed. "No. This is all you, the beginnings of your power."

His son's head jerked and made the fluffy white hair on his head bounce. "My… power? You mean-- Whoa!" A wobbly smile started to stretch his lips. "So how to do I turn it off? Or, whatever you and Uncle Dante do when you go back to normal?"

That was a good question. "I don't believe this power is fully developed yet, which means you forced it before you were ready," Vergil said cautiously. "Under normal circumstances, a Devil Trigger would automatically release once you've expended most of your energy or when whatever stressors set it off were gone, however…"

He could feel the power humming through Nero's arm when he skimmed his fingertips over the surface, but it wasn't nearly the amount a true Trigger would generate. It was subdued, more like a perpetually ready state waiting for Nero to call on it, and he wasn't certain what exactly that meant for his son. "I've never seen anything quite like this," Vergil confessed. "It's possible that you might not be able to--"

"You mean I'm stuck like this?" Nero's dread came back full force, haunting his eyes. "What happens when it _does_ 'develop'? Am I gonna turn more and more into a demon? Am I gonna--"

"Nero--"

"be like that forever? What if I--"

"Nero."

"can't ever turn back?! I'd never be able to go outside or--"

"Nero!"

His son's mouth snapped shut, but the hysteria behind his words didn't retreat. Vergil sighed.

"I don't know precisely what will happen. Unfortunately, our kind don't come with manuals." Dante had said that back when Nero was only a baby, half-joking that their own mother would have had to 'wing-it' when it came to monitoring their development. "But I _can_ tell you that you won't be facing this alone. I will be here with you, and, once Dante returns," because Dante _would_ return, Vergil couldn't doubt that, "he will help you too."

Nero was silent for a long moment, staring at the floor while he wrestled with what was surely a heavy and strange milestone in his life. Vergil supposed he should be grateful it didn’t come about due to familial stabbing this time.

"Okay," Nero said eventually. "Maybe I can find a glove to hide it until we figure this out." He glanced down and flexed his fingers, giving them a wiggle. "I thought it would feel different."

Vergil cocked an eyebrow. "Different?"

"Yeah," Nero said. "I thought it would feel like it was covered up or something, but this just feels like my regular skin."

"It _is _your skin," Vergil said. "This is you." _Your inheritance_, he thought but couldn't force it out. There was far too much embedded in the blood of Sparda, and Vergil had always found himself loathe to lay those burdens on his son. _Was this how Father felt?_

Nero fell quiet again, this time contemplating his devil arm. He turned it over and made a fist before he looked his father in the eyes and offered a hesitant smile. "It's kinda cool… right?"

Vergil tried not to laugh. That sounded so much like something Dante would say. "It's very impressive," he allowed. "I'm sure it will be quite the fearsome addition to your arsenal."

His son tipped his head thoughtfully. "...Maybe we could try it out?"

"If you like."

Nero's smile grew a little bigger, though lacking the cocky edge that would truly set Vergil's heart at ease. "Yeah. I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd wondered how Nero's reaction to his Devil Bringer might be a bit different if he grew up around people with similar abilities. I feel like he'd still be anxious about the fact that he can't really control it the way Dante and Vergil can, but he also wouldn't have the same negative associations. Also I can't see Vergil being anything other than thrilled for his kid to have a Devil Trigger since it would mean Nero has the kind of power he'd need to protect himself in the future.


	4. Coronation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short is basically canon compliant and takes place after DMC5. It's a bit more sketchy since I wanted to play around with the tense and perspectives, so I apologize if it's a little weird. Rampant speculation about Devil Arms ahead.

The sword shatters suddenly. Nero staggers as it throws off his swing, nearly pitching him into the oncoming blow of the demon. Propellant from Red Queen's storage tank soaks the monster, but thankfully only a little spatters on Nero when he ducks and rolls to the side.

He doesn't have time to think, jamming the jagged remains of his weapon up under an armored plate as the enemy lurches toward him. Nero yanks out a pin from the ignition mechanism with a burst of sparks, and the fuel-covered demon ignites in rolling flames while he throws himself away from it in time to avoid being caught in the blaze.

He lies on his back watching it writhe and burn and finally,_ finally_ collapse. "Well fuck," he sighs.

"Kid!" Dante's shout gets his attention, and Nero sits up before his uncle and father get to his side. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he says, but Nero gazes sadly at the broken hilt that sits beside him.

Dante understands the loss without needing words. Not just a mere tool but a partner. "I'm sorry," he tells him somberly.

"It was bound to happen eventually," Vergil consoles as best he knows how, but he is surprised when the back of Dante's hand smacks into his chest. The scowl on his twin's face is a clear sign that he has said something he shouldn't have, and a glance at Nero's pinched mouth and averted eyes tells him that he's made the situation worse.

"It's fine," Nero says, though it clearly isn't. "Maybe Nico can still fix her."

Dante winces. "Yeah… I'm sure she'll figure something out."

Nico doesn't.

She stares, dismayed, at the pieces of the ruined blade scattered on her countertop in the van. "What the hell did he do to you? You're just scrap now, you poor baby," she says to the sword.

Nero wilts a little but tries to hide his disappointment. "Is there anything you can do?"

Nico huffs, and she really wants to tell him yes -- after all, her bread and butter is from being a miracle worker when it comes to weapons -- but she can't lie to him, not about the sword she knows has been at his side for so long. Her face must say it all because Nero slouches even more.

"Oh," he mutters.

"Maybe I can reuse some of the parts for a new one," Nico offers, but that's a cold comfort, and she knows it.

Dante steps in with a soothing hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Hey, I've got a small stash of Devil Arms back at my place. Why don't we take a look through those and see if one might work for you?"

The brightness in Nero's expression is so forced it hurts to look at. "Yeah, sure. It might be fun to try some out."

Grabbing his arm, Dante practically carries Nero out of the van because he just can't stand it anymore. Vergil stays behind and studies the wreckage on the counter for a few seconds before shaking his head and following. All this fuss over a thing made by human hands.

But he pauses on his way out, taking a glance at Nico and her curious inventions that have aided his son in battle when he couldn't. Perhaps there is something to think about there after all.

***

With a neat sidestep, Dante avoids the wayward swing of a very _not_ complacent broadsword. Nero is swearing up a storm while he gets control of it again after the thing practically threw him across the room.

"Maybe not that one," Dante suggests and gets an irritated glare in return. The sword is deposited back onto its rack without ceremony.

Vergil sighs from the corner but hasn't seen fit to intervene despite how poorly this is going. The weapons were subjugated by Dante, and most still hold onto their wrath toward him even if they have no choice but to submit. Nero, though, not only shares Dante's blood, making him an excellent target for petty vengeance, but also doesn't have the depth of experience with Devil Arms that would allow him to force compliance. His brother knows that and yet still lets this ridiculous charade continue. Vergil can't fathom why.

"Ow! Fuck, ow!" Nero almost drops Alastor when the sword shocks him and attempts to fly out of his grip. "Piece of shit," he growls. Keeping his hold and using the weapon's momentum against it, he slams the blade off the floor repeatedly. "I am _not_ letting you stab me."

"Well, that worked for me," Dante points out.

"And you're crazy," Nero shoots back, jamming Alastor into the wall so it can't try to impale him again. It quivers frustratedly. "Some of us don't want to solve all our problems by getting stabbed."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dante casts about, looking for any sword they haven't tried yet. He'd known in his gut that none of these would be very suitable. Nero is much more particular about the weapons he uses than Dante, content with his heavy blade, double-barreled revolver, and Devil Breakers. Nero had invested a lot of work in tuning them exactly the way he liked, and now that one third of his arsenal was suddenly gone, finding just the right replacement was going to be tough.

"You know, I appreciate you trying, but this just isn't working," Nero says. "I've got a spare Durandal in the van that Nico salvaged from the Order's old HQ. Maybe she can reinforce it or something."

"And how long do you think that would last?" Dante asks. He is not trying to be critical, really, but he broke more than a few of those swords himself when fighting the Holy Knights years ago. He knows they're fragile compared to demonic strength.

Nero's grimace is pretty telling. "Long enough," he answers with optimism he doesn't really feel. "I'm gonna go talk to Nico about it, see what she can do."

The youth's footsteps are heavier than normal as he tromps out of the shop toward the van parked outside. Dante sighs dejectedly. "I was kinda hoping," he says, half to himself. "Would've been cool to give the kid his first Devil Arm, ya know?"

Vergil shrugs. "He's a skilled enough warrior. I'm sure he can do well with any sword. It's hardly the tragedy he's making of it."

His brother stares at him flatly, another sign he's spoken out of turn even though he'd meant it as a compliment. Mostly. "Don't be like that," Dante scolds.

"I simply don't understand his attachment to that noisy thing," Vergil says. "It was clumsy, prone to malfunction, and likely held him back. It was only made of normal steel, so he couldn't possibly make use of his full strength with it."

Dante heaves another tired sigh and perches on the corner of his desk. "Try to remember how you felt when the Yamato was broken," he explains, but what Vergil feels is a spike of offense. Comparing their father's prized blade, the sword that separated the demon world from the human world, to a barbaric, motorized weapon?

"He's had Red Queen for a long time," his brother continues. "It's been with him through all kinds of things, protected him and the people he loves from danger. Yeah, maybe it wasn't a powerful heirloom like the Rebellion or the Yamato, but it still had a lot of meaning to him. Just… try to understand."

"Ah," Vergil says. Perhaps he _had_ been judging it purely on its power compared to the Yamato. In the context of sentiment, however, it would've been more like losing his book, and that thought struck closer to his heart.

The squeak of Dante scuffing his shoe's sole against the hardwood dragged Vergil back to the present. "We'll just need to keep our eyes peeled in case one of us comes across something that seems like it would work for him. Maybe we'll get lucky," he says. Dante really hopes so. Nero looks so _sad_, and he hates it.

"In the meantime," Vergil declares, finding he desperately wants to change the room's mood, "Morrison has another job for us. He seemed uncertain about some of the details other than the location being an abandoned amusement park, so I propose that one of us performs some reconnaissance rather than rushing in blindingly and using yourself as bait like you always do."

"By 'one of us' I assume you mean you?"

"That wasn't specifically my plan, but I rather thought it would come to that," Vergil returns.

Dante reaches over and yanks Alastor out of the wall. He ponders the sword for a moment in case it might have something clever to add. Alastor very deliberately says nothing. "Okay, then. You go poke around, and I'll bring the kid once he's got the sword situation worked out. Sound good?"

"Agreed. Though, if you dawdle too long, I may just resolve things on my own and take the payment for myself."

That finally coaxes a smile out of his twin. "We'll see," Dante promises. "Just don't get into too much trouble without me."

***

As it turns out, Vergil gets himself in quite a lot of trouble sans Dante. It's a bit galling after he had taunted his brother about his propensity for walking into danger, but Vergil hadn't _planned_ on it, so obviously it wasn't the same. Or so he tells himself as he teleports out of the radius of a fiery pillar.

The moment he had set foot into the boundaries of the amusement park, Vergil knew there were indeed demons here. He'd put a priority on closing the portal -- which seemed to have been opened by a cabal of now very dead cultists ripped apart by the very monsters they summoned -- but a handful of minor devils immediately swarmed his position right after he'd finished. Killing them couldn't even be considered light exercise, so he was pleased when another, more interesting, contestant tried to torch him with mystical fire. 

He hadn't yet gotten a clear look at his enemy, but he can feel a powerful demonic presence behind the wall of flame that melts a dilapidated ticket kiosk. It had been a running battle through the park, dodging around various decaying rides and booths as they hunted each other without giving up whatever advantages they could get from the environs. If he was willing to offer credit to this enemy, they were certainly cunning enough not to just charge at him. Even his patience had limits, however, and he was well aware of the best way to draw a demon out of hiding. Taunting.

Vergil plucks at the invisible threads only he can feel, pulling just so and slowing the passage of time in the world around him. It's easy enough to walk through the shower of small but deadly explosions. "This is growing tiresome," he says as time snaps back to its normal flow. "Are you afraid to face me? Do you find me so terrifying that you must resort to such cowardly tactics? Why don't you show yourself--"

A subtle shift in the air, difficult to detect with the convection winds from the fire, sends Vergil skipping back a few steps through a dimensional hop as a massive, muscular tail sweeps through where he had been standing. It is covered in iridescent scales and leads up to the dusky, brick red torso of a woman with dark hair coiled in gold ornaments. By conventional human stands, she would certainly be considered a great beauty, but the vertically slit, reptilian eyes, venom dripping fangs, and wicked claws were something of a deterrent. She hisses at him in frustration.

A lamia.

"Probably for the best that Dante isn't here," Vergil decides. He would waste far too much time with such a comely opponent.

"Son of Sparda," she spits, saliva scorching holes in the ground she hasn't already burned with magic, "I will make you bow to me."

It seems her personality also leaves much to be desired, Vergil thought amusedly. "Far greater threats than you have tried and failed."

"You're mocking me?!" the demoness snarls.

"I am simply stating a fact." He teleports away from another tail swipe and a hail of little flaming meteors, though her screech of rage does give him a bit of a headache. "I've slayed many of your kind over the years. You might be one of the largest I've seen, but I hardly think you'll present any more of a challenge."

He wouldn't mind being proven wrong, of course. It had been a while since he'd had a good fight that didn't involve sparring with his kin.

The lamia rears up and boldly displays just _how big _she really is, towering over Vergil and even taller than the rusting carousel that gets unseated by the lash of her powerful, bright red tail. "I'm not weak like those others. Don't take me lightly."

"Perish the thought," Vergil says mockingly, "that I would think you so common."

She puffs up in indignation. "I'm a _queen_! I defeated my mother for this title, and I will devour you too!" 

Vergil teleports again, feeling suddenly thoughtful while he avoids the gouts of flame. "A queen, you say? And a red one at that. How very... serendipitous." He smiles sharply as an idea springs to mind, and the Yamato sings a siren song as its blade is bared to the air.

What a perfect solution. He'll just need a little help to pull it off, he thinks. The lamia is a formidable opponent, and her fire spells make it more engaging than most battles he's fought since he returned from hell, but even this mighty queen is no match for a son of Sparda. Her gurgling last words carry all the hate he expects.

"Filthy… traitor-blood…" she wheezes. "I will never submit… to you."

His lips quirk with satisfaction. As she says, her soul rejects his taming, but that isn't what he wants anyway. "Not to me, no," he tells her and uses the Yamato's otherworldly sharpness to slice into her before her body has a chance to fully disperse. And now that he has the materials, he just needs a skilled enough smith.

Nico fumbles with her cigarette when Vergil drops the gargantuan tail in front of her. He clears his throat but finds the actual _asking_ part of his plan is more difficult than he had anticipated. The way her eyes light up with glee helps loosen his tongue.

"I would like you to make something for me," Vergil declares. "And I am willing to trade any favor you wish of me."

Her eyebrows pop upward, and Nico can hardly believe her ears. "_Any_ favor?" she prods.

Vergil fidgets under the scrutiny. "I am a man of my word. I would not lie."

"Lie, no," she says. "Walk a mile around the truth? For sure. Don't forget that I knew V."

He doesn't manage to fight off the chagrin that overtakes his face. "Point taken, however this is a promise, and not one I have any wish to break."

Nico mulls that over for a moment because his sincerity is definitely out of the norm of 'Vergilisms' she is getting used to. Also a lamia tail of that freshness and quality is a damn rarity, and she would really like to work with it. "Alright, I can take commissions. Whatcha want? Gauntlets? A wakizashi?"

Vergil looks at the scattered pieces of Red Queen laid out on a white cloth, and the lightbulb goes on for Nico.

"Oooooh! That's so dang _cute_!" she exclaims. He'd gone to all the trouble of killing a lamia queen without damaging the tail just for his son. Vergil is immediately alarmed.

"This is between us," he says quickly. "Nero doesn't need to know."

Nico shakes her head in disapproval. "Are you kidding? Nero would be stoked if you--"

"There's no need," he stresses. "And this is part of the deal. If you want that favor, one that could get you any demonic components you could possibly desire, then secrecy is my bargain."

She thinks on it for a moment. Building the sword is a no-brainer, she's going to do that no matter what because Nero is her partner, but Vergil's sudden shyness has caught her off guard. Her next words are probably some of the most careful that have ever come out of her mouth. "So, if I tell him, I don't get a favor?"

"No favor," Vergil confirms.

Nico gives him a big, bright smile. "Understood. Now let's talk some details. I've got ideas for a few improvements, but you're the master swordsman, so I want your opinion."

He relaxes, and Nico's smile grows.

***

Nero is flat out gob smacked, gawking at the gorgeous new weapon in his hands. He can feel the demon soul inside, hungrily resisting him, but after some extra practice with the Devil Arms Dante has lying around, he's starting to get the hang of controlling them. At least enough to hold one, anyway.

"Holy shit, Nico. This is amazing!" he enthuses.

"O' course it is." Nico blows out a pleased stream of smoke. "I made it."

He's too happy to rib her about the boasting this time. The hilt is almost entirely the same parts as his old one, comfortable and familiar in his hand, but the rest... Nero plants the tip of the sword against the parking lot pavement and revs the mechanism, laughing as flames spew up the blade. They're more wild than Red Queen's first incarnation, but he can tell why. The demon inside is an eager, bloodthirsty thing, desperate to prove their strength. Nero can respect that.

"I get ya," he tells it. "That's some impressive fire you've got there. Can't wait to see what you can really do."

The soul sparks in surprise, retreating just a bit, though Nero thinks it's curiosity rather than outright obedience. "I'm not looking for just a tool," he assures her -- he's _pretty_ sure this demon prefers 'her' -- and lifts the weapon up to see his reflection in the shining blade. "I need a partner, someone I can count on to help me kick ass."

There's nothing for a moment, just an empty distance, and then Nero feels a slow curl of interest. It reaches out to him, and he forces himself not to immediately pull back from the alien contact. There is dangerous heat in the phantom touch, but also an understanding of expectations and long desired approvals and a hard-won confidence that needs just a bit of help to keep it tied together sometimes. Nero smiles at her.

"Let's show 'em who we really are," he says, and the resulting agreement feels cautious but mutual.

"Good work, kid!" Dante gives him a pat on the back and a grin. He leans in to get a closer look at his nephew's cool new weapon.

"Not the most conventional method of bonding with a Devil Arm, but it does seem effective," Vergil admits. It _is_ a marvelous piece of work, far more sturdy and powerful than the last sword, and it should help keep Nero safe in the midst of battle. The artisan has outdone herself this time.

Nero's chest swells with pride from the compliments. "Thanks, Nico," he says sincerely. "I don't know how I'm ever gonna pay for this, though."

"Already taken care of," she tells him, trying to fight off the smirk threatening her mouth.

"Seriously?" He looks so shocked and suspicious that Nico lets out a laugh. 

"Seriously. Same person who brought me the materials to make it settled up the bill." It's too hard to plaster an innocent look on her face when she can see Vergil starting to jitter where he's standing next to Dante, so she gives up and grins.

Nero is wide-eyed and open mouthed. It makes him look like a cute little boy, she thinks. "Someone else did that for me? Who?"

"It's a secret," Nico says and looks right at a very flustered Vergil.

Whipping around, Nero gawks at his father in astonishment. "You did that? For _me_?" His voice cracks a little, and his cheeks have gone pink. "That's… I… Thank you! This is so great!"

"You just lost your favor," Vergil huffs at Nico, though he really isn't that upset upon seeing Nero's overwhelming happiness.

"Wooorth iiiit," she singsongs back at him.

"Not like you were that subtle about it, bro," Dante says as he elbows his twin. "I mean that whole 'oh, Nico told me she has something for you' shtick, and then dragging Nero outside to see it? Bit of a giveaway."

Vergil sniffs and tries to regain his composure, but it's not so easy with Nero's lopsided smile and soft eyes watching him.

"Thanks, Da-- Uh, Vergil," Nero says and brushes his knuckles against the end of his nose. "Would you… Would it be okay if we maybe… practiced? Together? I mean, it's probably going to take me a while to get the hang of this thing, and I figure I could use some help."

"I suppose that would be acceptable," Vergil demures, but inside he is lit up with glee. Dante catches his eye and then rolls his own to clearly display that he's not fooled, though it doesn't dim the feeling.

"Awesome! I'll go set things up out back!" Nero is off and away before anyone can speak. 

Nico snorts and shakes her head in obvious amusement. "Ya ol' softie," she says to Vergil, but it isn't unkind. In fact, he detects a note of approval from the artisan.

He should be frustrated, perhaps even angry, at her betrayal of their contract, but it's rather difficult considering how things turned out. He isn't even entirely sure _why_ he wanted to keep that information private in the first place -- other than the nagging, persistent fear of his son's rejection that wouldn't leave him no matter how often the boy welcomed him with open arms.

But Nero is happy, because of his father, and that is something Vergil finds he just can't regret even at a small cost to himself. Perhaps this one secret is best let out in the open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, Nero's new Red Queen was just going to be made from the Lamia tail without any demon soul, but she worked her way in there anyway.


	5. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon compliant and takes place sometime after DMC5.

Three concise slashes with the Yamato and three dead demons. A quarter turn and two more down. Nero was off to Vergil's right, whooping with joy, so much like Dante it made Vergil smile. They were fighting side by side for… a job? Yes. A job exterminating some minor demons. Hardly a worthy task for any of Sparda's kin, but the chance to be with his son was too good to pass up.

Nero's noisy gun sounds like thunder in… the warehouse. They were clearing out a warehouse, of course, because demons didn't care about leases and shipping schedules and quotas. This kind of jobs meant desperate people with money, which translated to simple negotiations and higher pay. Easy work. A large paycheck. Time spent bonding with his child. The whole thing was wonderful.

His boy grinned like the sun, and Vergil realized there were no more enemies.

"Nice work," Nero said, holstering his pistol. "Too bad they're all gone, right?"

"Yes. This is over too quickly," Vergil admitted. He found he wasn't ready for their time to be over just yet. "It's a shame there's not more of them to entertain us, but perhaps we can--"

Nero gasped as something dark suddenly punched straight through his abdomen, and Vergil blinked in shock. Moving like oil, it flowed quickly over Nero's shoulders and down his legs, shredded tendrils yanking his feet out from under him. The boy hit the ground with a pained grunt and dug his phantom claws into the concrete floor to stop the lattice from dragging him away.

"What the fuck?!" Nero cried.

Pitch black ooze, reeking of sulphur and fetid mold. A smell that has haunted Vergil for so long.

Mundus. Mundus is here.

Vergil couldn't move either towards or away. An icy shock of fear left his legs as solid as rocks, and all he could do was watch as Nero struggled to get loose. The thready darkness was quickly swallowing the child up, licking at his jaw and the corner of his eyes.

"V-Vergil!" Nero called and tried to twist his face -- his sweet face transformed by horror -- away from the substance. It feels like humid, hot grease and suffocatingly abandoned basements, Vergil remembers it clearly. "Help! Please!"

Still paralyzed, He stared at his son's hand reaching out desperately for him. The terror gripped his lungs like a steely fist. Nero's claws raked furrows in the concrete floor, but no amount of strength would get him free of that. Vergil remembers that too. 

"Please! Father!" Nero shouts, and that word, that lovely, loving word finally cracked the shell of Vergil's fear.

He grabbed on to his son's scrabbling hands and pulled as hard as he could. It wouldn't be enough, he knew, it was never enough. He didn't have the power to save himself back then, and he didn't have it now to save his son. Mundus was too much for him to fight. Vergil was too weak.

Nero slipped out of his grasp, leaving him holding nothing. The darkness swallowed his son.

"No… No, this can't be," Vergil muttered. He wanted to run to the black, pulsing globe that had stolen the one good thing he's ever created, but he didn't dare. "Let him go!"

**"Is that what you want?"**

The voice was a knife through his skull, and Vergil had to lock his knees so he couldn't flee from it. There was too much at stake. He was going to lose. "Give him back to me!" Vergil screamed at the murderer, the corruptor. "He's mine! I won't let you take anything else from me! Give him back!"

He was so  _ afraid _ . He couldn't do anything but yell.

Mundus' laughter shook Vergil's heart in his chest.  **"Be careful what you wish for, son of Sparda."**

The black sphere ripped open like a muscle being pulled apart, and Vergil felt a new kind of fear. Nero was there, yes, but half covered in organic, dark armor. It rippled and shifted around him, and ink poured from his burning red eyes. Nero was there, but it wasn't Nero. Not anymore. Vergil remembered.

When his son advanced, dragging that flame spewing motor sword on the ground behind him, Vergil retreated. He couldn't. This wasn't supposed to happen, not to someone so kind as his son. It was all so wrong. Vergil had deserved this, not Nero, but he couldn't save him. He was losing everything.

The back of his knees collided with a crate, and Vergil found himself falling to the ground. Nero kept moving toward him, bleeding black from his mouth, his constantly quipping tongue silenced. It was too much, so Vergil crabbed backward on his elbows because he  _ couldn't _ . And still Nero came to him, reaching out, begging for him, needing help that Vergil just didn't have the strength to give him.

He can't.  _ He can't! _

"Stop! Just stop this!" He scrambled backwards just as Nero's fingers brushed against his cheek. "No more!" 

Vergil cracked his skull against the headboard and blinked his way back to reality. His heart hammered at his ribs so hard it shook his body. This room. His bedroom. His bedroom at Devil May Cry. No warehouse. No demons. No Mundus. No…

"Nero!"

Vergil lunged for his side table and snatched up the cellphone that Nero had bought for him months ago. He was still figuring out how the damn thing worked, but Nico had programmed important numbers into it, chief among them the one for Nero's own rugged little mobile phone. It was only when he had his finger hovering over the shyly smiling, digital portrait of his son that Vergil came to his senses.

It was the middle of the night.

It was only a nightmare.

He was being utterly ridiculous, falling prey to adrenaline-fueled emotions. Vergil pressed the palm of his hand to his face and forced himself to breathe.

"Stupid," he whispered.

"Bad dream?"

Vergil jerked and stared at Dante in surprise. His brother lounged against the doorway that he hadn't even heard open. "How did you…?"

Dante smiled faintly, his usual bluster completely absent. "Just a guess. And for my next trick… it was about the kid, wasn't it?"

"You couldn't possibly know that," Vergil said defensively.

He sat down next to Vergil on the bed and pointed to the cellphone clutched tight against his chest. "That was an easy one."

Vergil huffed and set the phone back onto the side table defiantly. "It's nothing."

"You can call him, you know," Dante said, giving his twin a small nudge.

"It's 3 A.M.," Vergil reminded him. 

Dante nudged him again. "Not in Fortuna. It's morning there. Text him. He'll understand."

It was preposterous and indulgent and Vergil certainly wasn't going to give in. "It was just a dream."

Sighing through his nose, Dante picked the cell phone up, and Vergil belatedly realized he hadn't locked the screen before putting it back. His brother had never showed even the slightest interested in more modern methods of communication, so he was surprised when Dante started typing at the on-screen keyboard with respectable speed. 

"What are you doing? Dante, stop!" Reaching for the mobile phone got an elbow shoved into his chest, and the two scuffled for a moment before Dante abruptly conceded and let the device be taken out of his hands.

The phone chirped a few seconds later. Vergil scowled at his blandly smiling little brother.

_ Everything OK with you?  _ said Dante's counterfeit text.

Nero's near immediate reply was:  _ Fine. _

But the phone pinged again and then several more times in rapid succession.

_ Why? _

_ Are you okay? _

_ What's happening? _

_ Do you need me to come? _

"You've worried him," Vergil accused, but Dante only shrugged.

"Tell him the truth. He'll understand."

A half-hearted glare accomplished absolutely nothing, and Vergil knew he at least needed to provide some kind of context lest Nero start to be truly concerned.

_ I had an unpleasant dream is all. I apologize for disturbing you. _

The phone was silent for a long moment, one that had Vergil feeling a coil of unpleasant embarrassment twisting in his stomach before the next reply chimed.

_ I get it. Yeah, we're all good here. Do you want to talk? _

"Told you," Dante said. "Nero's looking after those orphans, remember? You really think he doesn't have times when he worries about them?"

That… was a very good observation. Sometimes Dante's instincts were worth listening to, even if Vergil would never admit that aloud. He stared down at the last message before typing out a reply.

_ No. _

_ Thank you, Nero. _

He frowned at the simple words that hardly conveyed the depth of appreciation he had for the offer. Conversing by text alone was incredibly difficult, though Vergil could privately acknowledge that he wasn't much good at expressing his emotions in person either. It always seemed like he was missing the most salient points no matter how hard he tried. The phone buzzed in his hands again.

_ No problem. If you change your mind, I'm always here. :)  _

And there was that funny, warm flush that seeped right down into his marrow. Nero confounded him at every turn, father and son often frustrating each other right to the razor's edge of violence, but Nero always came back even when Vergil couldn't force himself over his own ego. This boy really was a genuine marvel. Vergil’s heart felt so light.

Dante's snickering ruined the moment.

"Must you?" Vergil groused.

"Sorry! You got this really sappy look on your face," Dante said. "It makes me happy to know you and the kid are getting so close."

Vergil huffed and finally set his phone aside for good. The irrational panic that the dream caused was gone, and he had to agree that bonding with Nero made him just as pleased. It was unlike any feeling he'd experienced in his life.

"I'm fine now," he told his twin. "You don't have to stay."

Dante shrugged but tried too hard to be nonchalant for Vergil to believe it. "You want me to go?"

He should say yes. Of course he should. It wasn't like they were still children where they needed to spend every hour together and huddle together when the storms outside got too loud. But…

"Stay if you want," he said, knowing he was being obvious about his lack of real indifference.

His brother grinned at him, grabbing at the covers to clamber under behind Vergil. "Hey, Kyrie told me this cute story about Nero not long after I met him."

"Oh?" Again, Vergil knew he wasn't really hiding his interest while he settled into bed, shoulder to shoulder with Dante.

"Yeah! When they were little tykes, he apparently had this thing about apples, and there was a big tree at the edge of town on the bank of a stream. He used to climb it all the time to grab some for her."

Vergil's lips curved at the enthusiasm in Dante's voice. "Do tell."

"So one day, he's climbing up the tree on a branch that hung right out over the stream, and -- can you believe it? -- all of the sudden the branch breaks, and down he goes! Right into the water! But that's not the really crazy part…"

Leaning back into his pillow, Vergil let his twin's story wash over him. The memories left behind by his past would never truly fade, but he didn't have to cope with them alone anymore. With Nero and Dante in his life, new memories were filling in all the painful gaps and cracks in his soul, making him feel, for the first time in so, so long, like he could one day be whole again. Perhaps not the same 'whole' he was before, but the new one wasn't turning out to be so bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this fluffy enough? It wasn't originally supposed to be, but Dante got involved. I figure Vergil's got 25 years worth of parental anxiety to work out through his subconscious.


	6. Blessing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically takes place after the end of my story Encore, but all you need to know is that Vergil never fell at Temen-ni-gru, he and Dante raised Nero, and Credo managed to not get killed by Sanctus. Dante and Vergil are 44, Nero is 25, Kyrie is 26. I have no idea how old Credo is supposed to be because I've never found a reference to his age anywhere.

"I'm sorry. You _what_?" Vergil stared at Kyrie, completely baffled.

She smiled tolerantly. "I'd like your blessing to ask Nero to marry me."

That was exactly what he thought she'd said, but it didn't make any more sense to him with repetition. "Why?"

Her quiet laugh made him bristle, though he was quite sure she wasn't making fun of him. "You're his father, of course. I think it would make him happy to know that you approve of our marriage, and we'd like you to be included in the ceremony."

Vergil sat back into the tattered armchair, unsure of how he should be feeling. Other than old. He'd thought it odd that Kyrie had asked him to stay behind to help her when Nero left to go demon hunting in the forest earlier, but this hadn't been part of any scenario he'd run through to prepare himself for what her real motivations might be.

"This doesn't seem very traditional," he said for lack of anything else.

"I'm less fond of traditions than I used to be, but there are certain parts of them that I don't mind." Her smile turned a little sly, and Vergil had to admit his future daughter-in-law never ceased to surprise him. "Nero and I have already discussed getting married, but he seems to think that a proposal has to be absolutely perfect for it to count, and I'm not that patient."

"Ah," Vergil uttered. "He can be very sentimental about certain things."

"Yes, he can." Kyrie kept smiling, hands folded primly in her lap, obviously waiting for his response to her question.

It wasn't as if he was going to reject this, of course. He _liked_ Kyrie. She made his son deliriously happy, and she was intelligent, kind, and had a pleasing refinement that made her wonderful to converse with. No, the sticking point was that his sweet baby boy was now old enough to get married and start a family of his own. He'd seen it coming, but that didn't mean he was prepared.

"If you need some time to think about--"

"No," Vergil cut her off, and Kyrie's auburn brows rose up. "I mean, no, I don't need more time to think about it," he hastily explained. "Of course you have my blessing." 

Not for the first time, Vergil concurred with Nero's fervent description of Kyrie as 'angelic.' Her smile was so warm and benevolent that it made even him a little flustered. "Thank you, Vergil. That makes me very happy." He was further flustered when she rose to her feet and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before departing.

Married.

His son was going to get married.

His tiny little boy who'd needed a father's help for everything was going to get married to a lovely, clever woman and probably have lovely, clever children of his own.

Oh no.

He was going to be a _grandfather_. And Dante would be a great uncle! The thought left him reeling because his little brother certainly wasn't old enough for that -- even if they _were_ the same age minus a few minutes. This was just too bizarre for Vergil to cope with.

"I take it she asked you, then?" Vergil glanced up when Credo took Kyrie's former seat at the end of the couch. The man had a strange, lopsided smile that said he was similarly discomposed by the news. 

"Were you aware?" Vergil asked. He hadn't meant to sound snippy, but it leaked through anyway. If _everyone _knew before he did, Vergil was going to be a little offended.

Credo laughed quietly and scrubbed at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. "You know, I realized it was going to happen sooner or later, but she still managed to completely blindside me. I'm not sure how that happened."

"Hmm, I suppose children have a way of doing that when they grow up so suddenly." It was perhaps a rather erroneous thing to say, considering that neither of the youngsters had in fact aged abruptly, but being forced to confront it was jarring nonetheless.

And Credo's nod of agreement clearly stated that Vergil wasn't alone in his feelings. "It was the oddest thing, but when she asked me for advice on how to approach you," he said, "all I could think of was taking her to her first choral recital when she was 6 years old. It feels like it was just yesterday."

"She needed advice on how to ask me if I minded her marrying my son?" Vergil asked in surprise. He had done his best _not_ to frighten Kyrie and thought he'd established a good rapport with her. He didn't like to think she was uncomfortable around him.

Credo sank back into the couch cushions with a sigh and stared at the ceiling. "She's putting on a confident face, but I think there's more to this than Nero taking his time to make things too perfect. Kyrie really wants to be the one to propose to him, probably to spite the Order's old social mores. I think it has little to do with either of us, and everything to do with her asserting her independence."

"Ah." That made Vergil feel considerably better. 

"Your son was a very positive influence on her, by the way." Credo rolled his head to look at Vergil. "I hate to think how reserved and meek Kyrie might have ended up if she didn't have someone like him urging her to be herself. I… wasn't in the best position to offer her that."

Vergil tried not to preen too obviously at the compliment to his offspring. "They make a formidable pair, I'll admit. Nero struggled to make meaningful relationships outside his family as a child. He was grateful to have Kyrie as a friend."

"Hmmm, I suppose we should both count ourselves lucky," Credo said. "We could've ended up with much worse in-laws, don't you think?"

"Oh, I have no doubt," Vergil agreed. He paused and then smirked. "Though you _will _have to put up with Dante as well."

"There's one in every family, as I understand it."

"Perish the thought," Vergil said. "The concept of more than one Dante out there in the world is enough to strike fear into the most indomitable heart."

Credo's burst of laughter sounded like a release valve, letting out some of the anxiety they'd both built up. "I could drink to that," he said, slapping his hands on his thighs and getting up. "Would you care for one too?"

"I wouldn't object." Vergil wasn't given to overindulging in alcohol like his brother sometimes did but considering the dramatic shift his perception of his little boy had suffered today, it could be excused. In addition, it might serve as a bonding medium with Credo -- who was, in the most important sense, his counterpart in Kyrie's side of the family.

Opening the doors of a sideboard cabinet that sat tucked into the corner of the living room, Credo rummaged for a moment before returning with two crystal glasses and an ornate bottle. He turned it over in his hands for a moment.

"Our father bought this the day Kyrie was born," he said, tone almost absent and far away. "There's an old tradition on Fortuna where the fathers share a drink while discussing the dowry of the bride-to-be. I'm certain that my sister wouldn't appreciate that very much, but I don't see why we should let it go to waste."

"This seems a rather similar situation, though," Vergil mused.

"Ah, but I don't plan on bargaining away my sister," Credo pointed out. "And I doubt you're interested in setting up terms for your son's marriage. I'm quite sure they'd disown us both if we tried." He handed the glasses to Vergil and uncorked the bottle. The rich amber liquid filled a cup for each of them before Credo set the bottle aside and retook his seat. 

Vergil passed one of the glasses to his companion and raised his own. "Would a toast be too much in the tradition my daughter-in-law despises?"

"Depends on the toast," Credo said but raised his glass in kind.

Pondering for a moment, because this kind of thing wasn't his forte, Vergil considered what his son and soon-to-be daughter would want to celebrate in this event. There was really only one thing that seemed right.

"To family," he said, inclining his head. "Whether by blood or by choice, it makes no difference in its virtue."

Credo grinned broadly and touched the rim of his drink to Vergil's. "To family."


	7. Prodigal Sons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A completely different AU this time. More of an 'everybody lives' sort of thing. Also, Eva's a witch, because why not?

Vergil was not an indecisive man. He'd known what he wanted since he was 17 and walked out of his home after failing to persuade his father to see the necessity of reclaiming his sealed power. He had crossed the world in pursuit of what he needed to protect his family from their enemies, digging into every secret crevice and ancient tome to find it. The research had been fruitful and brought him into contact with some of the worst, most dangerous beings that walked the human realm, but his quest also reminded him of the strength and mercy that flowed within in his mother's blood. 

Through the struggles and trials, he had never doubted his choice for a moment, and he truly had grown in power by leaps and bounds. It felt like he'd been gone for an eternity. He had changed a lot over that time.

But there was one very important thing that had changed more than the rest, and now Vergil stared at the familiar doorway he had stormed away from two years ago. It was hard to swallow his pride and finally ask for help. He didn't only have himself to think about now.

His empty hand hovered over the door before he sighed and let it fall. Knocking shouldn't be this difficult.

"How long are you gonna stand out there?" came a voice he knew better than his own, slightly muffled by the heavy wood between them. Dante flung open the door and smirked. "Look what the cat dragged in. Finally came crawling home?"

Ah, yes. _This_ is why knocking was difficult. "Hello, brother," Vergil greeted stiffly, and Dante laughed.

"Still a stick in the mud, huh? Guess your road trip didn't improve that." For all his tone and words sounded like a joke, Vergil could see the hurt behind them and felt a twist in his stomach.

"Who's at the door, Dante?"

Vergil swallowed hard at the warm voice that carried from another room. He considered just turning on his heel and calling this an enormous mistake, but the weight in his arms reminded him he didn't have the luxury of catering to his ego anymore.

"Don't make them stand on the stoop," Mother scolded, and her golden head suddenly poked out from around the corner. "You should invite them--"

Green eyes went wide, staring at him in disbelief before they softened.

"H-hello, Mother." He hated the waver in his voice, but, god, how he'd missed her smile.

"Vergil," she said, melting like honey. "Oh, Vergil, whatever are you doing out there? Come inside." Her hands were pulling on his arms, dragging him across the threshold, before he could loosen his throat enough to say anything else.

"What's going on? I'm missing something, aren't I?" Father loomed in the doorway to the study and blinked owlishly. His demonic eyes had never quite adjusted to the light of the human realm, but when he focused on Vergil a broad grin stretched his face. "Ah! You're home, son. How was your trip?"

It was jarring to be addressed so casually until Vergil remembered that his father didn't share the same concept of time as humans did. To him, his eldest son might as well have just gone on a short vacation. "Hello, Father," Vergil said quietly.

Dante's mouth pulled down but smoothed out as he shut the door and leaned on it with deceptive casualness. "So, that's it, yeah? You wander off for two years and swan back in here like nothing happened. That sounds like you."

Mother clucked her tongue in disapproval, and Vergil saw his twin flinch. "Dante, none of that, please. We can talk about it later."

"You know what? I wanna talk about it now," Dante growled. He pushed off the door and glared at Vergil. "You said some pretty mean things when you ran outta here, told us how ignorant and blind we all were. The least you could do is apologize for being such a--"

A plaintive little wail broke through his brother's tirade before it could really get started. Dante froze. Mother startled. Father made an 'o' of surprise with his mouth.

"What the hell is that?" Dante said and leaned over to peer at the fussing bundle in Vergil's arms.

"This," Vergil said as he moved the blanket away from the adorable face, "is Nero."

His three family members crowded close, and things started to get noisy, just as Vergil had feared. Nero's whimpers continued with everyone else raising their volume to speak over him -- and each other.

"Well, this is a surprise! Oh my, how small this one is," Father said. 

"What the fuuuu--dge?" Dante exclaimed, managing to catch himself before he would have gotten his ear tweaked by Mother. "What did you do, Verge? Tell me you didn't swipe a kid from somewhere!"

Vergil scowled at him. "Of course not!"

"Then where did he come fr--?" His twin cut off at Vergil's level stare. "Right, okay, but still."

"Where is his mother?" Eva asked carefully. She always had this way of looking at her sons that cut right through any attempt at dissembling, getting right to their hearts.

Vergil glanced away. The last four days had been a whirlwind of shock and hurt feelings, of accusations and stark realizations. All of it underscored by the reality of a promising career that would be cut short by nearsighted traditions, and the knowledge that a child born out of wedlock, to a _foreigner_ of all things, would never truly be accepted by those around him.

"She… couldn't care for him," he said. It was the truth, if abridged. He had a promise to keep.

Mother studied him closely for a long moment and then sighed through her nose. "Alright, we should get him settled in. He's probably hungry, judging by that cry. When's the last time he was fed?" she asked, and Vergil tried hard not to cringe.

"This morning," he mumbled.

"It's afternoon. Are you saying--?"

"I ran out," Vergil blurted. "An elderly woman gave me some supplies before I left, but…"

Nero's cries got louder as if to further chide his father, and Vergil winced at the kindly disappointed stare Mother was sending his way. This was another reason knocking on his family's door had been so hard. Vergil didn't need anyone else to remind him just how poorly he had handled all of this.

"Enough of the frowning from all of you," Sparda rumbled. He ran the tips of his fingers over Nero's belly, funneling a tightly controlled stream of demonic energy into the baby, and instantly the cries diminished into snuffling whimpers before stopping completely. "That always worked with you two when we needed a moment to prepare food. It should tide our little one over until we can get something more substantial for him."

Eva had already grabbed a notepad and was muttering to herself as she wrote. "Formula first. But we'll need bottles, diapers, clothes… Someone needs to run out to the store and get--"

"I'll go," Dante offered, and Vergil couldn't hide his surprise. "He's my nephew. Figure I gotta do my part or something."

Mother's face pinched. "Your father will go along. Just in case you need help with… carrying things."

"Or with sticking to the list," Sparda chuckled. He patted Dante on the shoulder. "I do have a bit of experience with these sorts of things, my son. We should hurry before Nero feels the need to remind us that it's dinner time."

"Whatever," Dante muttered, snagging his coat from the hook near the door, but he paused to stare down at his nephew again. The awe on his face was still there when he glanced at Vergil. "I just can't believe…" He shook his head and followed their father out the door without finishing his thought.

Quiet settled like a shroud, leaving Vergil alone with his mother. She paced a bit in the foyer, obviously trying to compose herself, before motioning toward the living room. "I don't know how long you've been on your feet, but you look exhausted. Let's go sit." Her eyes pinned him like a butterfly to a collector's board. "And talk."

This was inevitable, he knew that, but Vergil still felt a renewed sense of dread when he took a seat on the couch while Eva settled into the armchair across from him. Nero had gone back to sleep after Father's trick eased his hunger, so he had no distraction from the steady emerald gaze. "I suppose you have questions," he said slowly.

"I have so many I don't know where to start," Mother confirmed. She heaved another sigh and pulled her legs up under her to be more comfortable. "How old is he?"

"Five days," Vergil said, and her eyebrows jumped. "His birth was premature, as I understand it. A little over three weeks early."

"Three weeks?" Eva frowned. "Were there any complications?"

"None that the midwife could find," Vergil told her. He truthfully hadn't known enough to grasp the seriousness of the situation until just last night when he had a moment to look for information about child development. And then there had been the added complexities of their demonic heritage which could affect growth in unpredictable ways. Nero miraculously had all the marks of a healthy, full term child, but Vergil still had a knot of panic lodged in his chest. 

His mother rubbed at her eyes, looking drained. "Not quite as early as you two were, but we'll need to get him to a doctor for a checkup as soon as possible. I'll make an appointment with someone I know once we get him fed." She lifted her chin as if a thought occurred to her. "Were you there when he was born?"

Vergil shook his head, trying not to feel the sting of guilt. "I was unaware that his mother was pregnant. It was a coincidence that I happened to pay her a visit the day after his birth." He'd gone back to her looking for answers and left with something much more precious.

"Hmm." Eva studied him for a long moment, lips pursed. She was rarely so unreadable, and it was making Vergil more anxious. "_Where_ was he born?"

"Fortuna."

"_Fortuna?_" Mother scowled deeply, but her eyes darted away, deep in thought. "Of all the places… Damn. So that's why they didn't keep him in the hospital... He won't have any paperwork either, but we can take care of that with a bit of finagling. Have to get in touch with her, but she'll want some information for--" Her muttering cut off, and she glanced back at her son. "You'll need to give me whatever details you've got about the time of birth, weight, length, anything you can. The more we've got, the less we'll have to make up, and the more authentic it'll seem."

He stared at her, stunned. Was his mother really talking about forging official documents so casually?

Her smirk was just enough like Dante's to remind Vergil where his little brother had gotten some of that attitude from. "Don't look so surprised. You really think a proper witch gets very far in this day and age without making a few compromises?"

"R-right," Vergil said. He was thrown off by her flippant response, but it helped to dispel some of the tension he'd been carrying. She wasn't angry with him. His family wasn't going to reject him. They wanted to help. The worst, darkest, fear he'd been carrying since he realized he couldn't possibly care for Nero on his own began to bleed away.

Eva uncurled from the chair and moved to sit next to him, hip to hip and laying a comforting arm around his shoulders. "I know this is scary, Vergil, but we'll figure it out. You'll never be alone if you don't want to be."

He felt a pulse of shame at her open smile, remembering the cold words he'd thrown at his family when he left, but it was short lived in the face of her understanding. "Thank you," he whispered. "I… thank you, Mother."

"I still have more questions," she said with a hint of maternal sternness, "but those can wait. Right now, I'd like to see my cute little grandson." Eva peered over Vergil's shoulder and practically cooed in delight at Nero's sleepy face.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Nero woke up and started to cry just as Dante and Father returned with veritable piles of baby supplies. Dante declared he wanted to hold his nephew and spent most of the time sulking when he was told that he’d have to wait until Nero was fed only for the baby to promptly fall back asleep. It was masterfully controlled chaos, orchestrated by Eva who made sure everyone was content, if not entirely appeased.

Vergil somehow managed to hold in his tears until Mother hugged him as she was saying good night. He still had no idea how he was going to make it through this, but the strength of father’s hand on his back and his mother’s arms around him fed the empty ache inside, making him feel as if everything might be all right again soon. It felt so good to be finally home.

****

"I don't know why you won't let me feed him," Dante huffed. He sat on the floor next to Vergil's feet, avidly watching Nero eat in his father's arms.

"I don't understand why you're so intent on it," Vergil sighed back. "Any time he cries, you go hide in your room."

"That's because I can't help him!" Dante protested. He gave his brother's leg a half-hearted push and rested his chin on the chair's cushion. "He sounds so upset, but I can't do anything to make him feel better…"

It was sweet, in the way that Dante often was. Not that Vergil would admit it. His twin was insufferable enough without giving him added incentive. "When he's finished, you can hold him."

Dante instantly perked up. "You're serious? It's been a week and a half, and you barely let me touch him."

"As long as you promise to be careful--"

"I wouldn't hurt him!"

"Of course you wouldn't," Mother said as she passed through the living room and ruffled her youngest son's hair. "But you're not used to holding babies, and Nero's still very small and fragile. Vergil is just being cautious."

Dante scoffed, but it was clear he wasn't offended. He was still too captivated by his nephew. "Man, you can really scarf that bottle down, kid. Look at him go."

"I seem to remember having _two_ hungry little demons once upon a time," Sparda chuckled from the couch, flipping through the morning's newspaper. "A good appetite will help him grow big and strong." 

Vergil set the now empty bottle on the side table and transferred Nero up to his towel-covered shoulder. It didn't take very many pats on the back for his son to let out an impressive belch.

"Nice one, kid!" Dante said, giving Nero a thumbs up that the sleepy baby couldn't possibly interpret. He clambered up to his feet with a grin and held out his arms. "He's done, right? I can hold him now?"

"I did promise, I suppose," Vergil drawled and enjoyed his twin's brief scowl.

"Stop trying to wind up your brother, Vergil," Eva said, moving back through the living room again. "Dante, go sit next to your father."

"Yes, Mother," they both echoed, but Dante scrambled over to the couch, obediently tucking himself next to Sparda and putting out his arms again.

There was something so childlike in his brother's grin, full of the happiness that Dante wore like a suit of armor. This, though, ran deep into his veins, and Vergil could practically feel it himself. The energy made him buoyant.

With some grumbling from both Dante and Nero, Vergil arranged his brother's arms and lay his son into the care of the person closest to himself. Dante's wide-eyed joy was so candid and unguarded that Vergil found himself smiling without meaning to.

"He's so _little _and light," Dante whispered, as if a raised voice might be a threat to the life cradled in his arms. "He's just… Oh man…"

Nero yawned and batted big blue eyes at his uncle. Glancing up at Vergil, Dante beamed brightly. "He's so cute," he said. "Must've gotten it from me."

"That's not how genetics works, Dante," Vergil said.

"He's probably learning it from watching me," Dante countered. "Nature versus nurture. Or something."

"As long as he doesn't pick up your sense of fashion."

"Or _your_ total lack of humor."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Dante started snickering and Vergil smirked. The tension between the two had flared a few times over the past week, but not to the extent that Vergil had feared so badly. It was obvious his brother hadn't completely forgiven him, and yet Dante didn't shunned him either, falling somewhere in a middle ground where he hung onto fragments of his hurt but still wanted his twin close. At some point, they would need to hash out their grievances to fully clear the air, but right now, Nero was doing an admirable job of smoothing things over.

"I'm sure that you'll be able to teach him many things," Vergil said quietly, taking a seat next to his brother. "He'll need your help."

It wasn't often that Dante was bashful, but the surprise that registered on his face was accompanied by a faint blush. "Don't worry, I'll keep him safe. You can count on me."

Vergil looked away. Eye contact was too much in moments like these, too personal and exposing. He had been struggling with the rawness of his emotions ever since discovering his tiny, vulnerable son, and having to throw himself on the mercy of the family he'd castigated on his way out into the world only churned up new fears. To find that they _wanted_ him here, even after all he'd said and done, was humbling. Gratitude made him feel weak, but he couldn't find even an ounce of regret for it.

Father cleared his throat, and Vergil turned to him expectantly. "I know that you've had some rather deep thoughts of late," Sparda said, "but I think your mother would like a moment of your attention."

Vergil followed his father's gesture and looked right at where Eva stood with her camera. The flash dazzled him before he could arrange a suitably stoic expression.

"Mom!" Dante protested, scrubbing at his eyes with the hand that wasn't cradling Nero. "Really?"

"I'm sorry, but you four just looked so precious sitting there," Eva giggled. Her apology wasn't at all reflected in the delightedly impish smile on her face. "We should take one more. It's Nero's first picture, after all."

Vergil grimaced. "We can hardly say no to that, can we?"

His mother's grin sparkled. "I know how slippery you can be when it comes to photos, honey. I'll use what I can get."

"It's so easy to underestimate how diabolical you can be, my darling. One of your best qualities," Sparda laughed. He lay an arm over the back of the couch and leaned in toward Dante. "Make sure you smile, Vergil."

"And scooch closer to your brother!" Eva instructed.

Vergil sighed and shifted himself over until she stopped motioning and held her hand up for him to stop. Dante's laughter was infectious, and he found himself fighting a smile when his twin started making faces at their mother so she would scold him. Warmed from the inside out, Vergil reached down and traced a finger along Nero's little round cheek. He felt at peace.

This was what he wanted, in the depths of his heart. This feeling was what Vergil had wanted so badly to protect and had made sacrifices and foolish choices for. He never could have dreamed that having a child of his own would open such a side of him, but, again, he couldn't summon any regret. And he hoped he never would.

"Is everyone ready?" Eva asked. She held the camera up and looked through the viewfinder at her family. "Okay, then. One… two… three!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering why Eva's not more worried about Nero being pre-term, it's because she knows more about devil-baby development than Vergil does. Still, she'd definitely not want to take any chances with her grandchild.


End file.
